


We're Gonna Take A Ride

by Nyxierose



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4471007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavia Blake has three days and 10 things she needs to do to get closure. Oh, and a “borrowed” car and the unexpected assistance of its owner. Labor Day weekend, a grand total of thirty-two hours on the road, an excuse to do everything she’s ever wanted, and a very hot sidekick who she just might be falling for. How could this POSSIBLY go wrong?!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. task one - New Orleans, Friday afternoon - steal a car

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetoctopodes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetoctopodes/gifts).



> Based off the tumblr prompt “so i stole a car and you were asleep in it, still, oops” and drawing heavily from Paper Towns (or at least my loose understanding of that book/movie). Title from “Diet Mountain Dew” by Lana Del Rey.

In theory, it's going to be nice and simple. Walk around the parking lot - a shopping mall in one of the nicer suburbs of New Orleans - and try to find a vehicle with the keys still in the ignition. Humans are idiots, Octavia knows this better than most, and she'll take about anything that runs. Of course, knowing her luck, "functional" is a bit much to hope for… but this is necessary, she tells herself. Completely necessary.

Her brother's getting married in three days. Her brother's getting married in three days, and she's going to be the good sister and show up and take proper advantage of the open bar, but first she has a few things she needs to do. A list, if you will. Ten things in ten different cities, nicely arranged by distance on a page of her journal. Ten things that absolutely need to be done.

Or, technically, eleven. To do any of this, she needs transportation, and not having a car is a small problem. _Finding_ a car, on the other hand, could be the answer to everything. Never mind that she technically doesn't have a driver's license - well, she does, but it's from Arizona and she hasn't actually lived there in a year - or that she's a fantastically bad driver. This sort of cross-country roadtrip thing requires sacrifices.

"Bingo," she says, peering into the window of a sufficient vehicle. This will do perfectly. It's the most mundane-looking white pick-up she's ever seen, there are keys in the cupholder, and she's willing to bet it'll be a few hours before she needs to stop for gas. Absolutely _perfect_ , like something up in the sky completely approves of her committing grand theft auto. Almost _too_ perfect, but she pushes that thought to the back of her mind. If this project gets derailed in a blaze of sirens, she'll deal with that when she has to and not a moment sooner.

She's barely out of the parking lot when she hears a banging noise on the back window. Probably a dog, she things, but she looks back out of curiosity and _holy shit that is not a dog_.

There is a human being in the bed of the truck. A very confused, very annoyed, and very pretty human who Octavia automatically knows is the owner. This is absolutely the day she's having.

She pulls over into the next strip mall, parks as far away from anyone else as she can, and braces for the worst. Screw getting arrested, she's probably gonna get _murdered_.

"I can explain," she says, slipping out of the truck and hoping that the pretty person - who's intimidating as fuck in the foot-taller-than-her and _wow_ -tattoos-look-even-more-interesting-on-darker-skin sort of way - will at least hear her out before he strangles her or whatever he's gonna do.

"Start talking," he replies, softening a little bit. That's good, right?

"It's a long story, but… I'm taking a roadtrip. To Boston, ultimately. I need to stop my brother from getting married. And I need to do a few other things on the way. And I know that's a terrible reason to steal someone's _car_ , but… I know no one here. I moved here like two months ago and that was a seriously bad idea and… desperation sucks? Like, I promise this is not something I would normally do, I just-"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is this so important to you?"

Octavia takes a deep breath, steadies herself. "Because… I ran away after high school. I haven't talked to anyone in four years, and… I woke up two weeks ago and realized I have a lot of loose ends. I'm twenty-two and that's way too young for this kind of regret. And I figured, I have a perfect excuse to take a trip _anyways_ , might as well do all the things I always wanted to do."

"Are there any other illegal acts on the list?"

"Not sure. Could you get arrested for kidnapping a cat?"

The pretty person gives her a _look_. "I don't think so, but I'm curious how that counts as tying up loose ends."

"Some of this is revenge. Some of it is really sweet, I promise, but there's also… that side of it. Stuff I need to do in various forms. And… okay, I know you probably think I'm up a tree right now, but… if you help me out, I'll find a way to repay you. Probably not financially, but… sexually is an option, if you're into that?"

"I want to help you." He sounds cautious, like he knows he's about to take a nice little vacation in hell, and there's a certain point to be made there. "On one condition."

"Which is?"

"You're not driving Beatrice."

"You named your truck _Beatrice_?!" Octavia laughs.

"Yes. And one more question - how many things are on this list of yours?"

"Ten. Ten things I need to do for closure. I know it's weird but-"

"I'm in."

" _What_?!"

"I know I've just met you, and I'm not thrilled that you tried to steal my car, but… the idea of you doing this alone bothers me. A lot."

"And you tagging along is a good idea because…?"

"Because it's a holiday weekend, you're bound to need help with something, and I'm invested."

"You don't know me, and… no offense, but dragging someone new into my crazy is-"

"Can't be any worse than anything I've already seen." He sticks his hand out. "Keys."

She throws them, aims badly, tries not to laugh as he drops to the ground to retrieve them. "You might be my absolute favorite person on the planet right now."

He shrugs. "So, where's the next task?"

"Florida. I need to yell at my brother's former best friend…"


	2. task two - Pensacola, Friday night - give a peace offering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fire alarm, a fruit basket, and a confrontation.

"Your first task involves a _Walmart_?" the pretty person asks. They're somewhere in Florida, on the road for nearly three hours, and they haven't bothered talking names or origins or anything that might matter. Just directions, and even that in as little detail as possible. It works, for now.

"Yep."

"How worried am I?"

"This one's easy. I just need to pull a fire alarm, corner my brother's former best friend, and yell at him."

"Fire alarm?"

"I need to evacuate the entire store because that's the only way I can be sure of finding him. He's an assistant manager in _something_ , and I'm lucky I even know that because he kinda stopped talking to us two years ago, and-"

"Is there possibly a _reason_ he stopped talking to you?"

Octavia rolls her eyes. "I'm not sure. There was some sort of falling-out, and nobody bothered to tell me anything, and… Nate's basically family, or at least he used to be, and he wasn't even invited to the wedding and that's just not right. Is that enough detail for you, mystery boy?"

"My name is Lincoln, and if anyone is mysterious here-"

"Okay, yeah, I haven't given you any identifying details. It's for your own good. If this goes wrong, I don't want you getting caught in my downward spiral."

"I'm already caught in it. Does involuntary getaway driver not register with you as a thing?"

"Yeah. Forgot that. And like I've said, you are a complete angel and I'm gonna owe you for the rest of my life and I'm not entirely sure why you're even doing this and-"

"You're cute and I might be scared of you. Is that enough?"

"Normally that combination leads to making out, not finding our inner Bonnie and Clyde, but… I _will_ repay you. Promise."

"Good."

\------

Half an hour later, Octavia wanders into a Walmart just outside Pensacola, Florida and lights three cigarettes in the women's restroom near the front entrance of the store. She doesn't actually smoke, but she's known this trick for years and it works every bit as well as it did on TV. It's eight PM on a Friday night, and the pandemonium that ensues is simply _epic_.

In the midst of the stampede, the girl responsible quietly slips out and looks for a very distinctive tan SUV. At one point, she worried that the person she's looking for might've acquired a new vehicle since she last saw them, but he apparently hasn't and by the time he appears, she's comfortably leaned back against the driver's door with a radiant smile on her face and a fruit basket in her hands. (Okay, so petty theft is now on her list. It's the cheap kind of fruit basket and she kinda doubts anyone will have noticed.)

"What the hell are you doing in Florida?"

"Good to see you too, Nate."

Nathan Miller had a migraine _before_ this development, but this is a new level of pain for him. "What part of 'we are not talking' did you forget?"

"The part where my brother is getting married in less than seventy-two hours and you need to come help me stop it?"

"Hell no. Do you not remember the last roadtrip? Never again."

"I didn't say come _with_ me. Go up on your own, take a bus, get a plane ticket, whatever, I don't care. Just _be_ there."

"You are not quoting Captain America at me, baby Blake."

"Intentionally, no, but if that works… please. I have a plan, but I need you there in case it backfires. You should be there in a damn penguin suit, Nate. You're _family_. And… you're the only person I trust in case nothing else works out."

"I have work."

"Noooo, you have the flu. C'mon, I know you and I would bet what little money I have that you have _never_ called in sick here. Change that. Please."

"I'll think about it."

\------

Octavia flings herself into the front passenger seat of the truck, a sweet smile on her lips. "That went well."

"How worried am I?"

"Definitely too worried," she laughs. "You volunteered for this, Lincoln. You could've said no."

"Eventually someone's going to have to explain this situation to emergency personnel. Better me than you?"

"You're making me like you, dammit."


	3. task three - Savannah, Saturday morning - leave an impression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A modern art piece - of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact - the task this chapter centers around was actually done by one of my friends. To her brother-in-law, who she passionately hates. Played a *little* differently here, but still the only thing in this fic (so far) that's based on a true story.

"Exactly how many of those did you buy?"

"Ten. They were on sale, okay? Only ended up being like twenty bucks, and it's gonna be so worth it."

"And you need ten rolls of aluminum foil because…"

"I used to be friends with the next person on my list, but then she screwed me over and I'm finally getting my revenge."

"With _foil_?!"

"I'm creative. Has this not registered with you?"

"You're insane."

"I am well aware of my crazy, Lincoln. This isn't even the best one either."

He decides not to ask. The less he knows, the less trauma he's going to have from this.

\------

It is six in the morning, and the project in question also involves several small pieces of duct tape for anchoring everything. Oh, and a fairly new SUV.

How Octavia has this kind of info about someone she hasn't spoken to in six years, Lincoln decides is better left unknown, but there's a certain mad beauty to watching her work. It's just early enough that no one is awake enough to see the current display, and it's almost tragic because someone _should_ see this. It's the weirdest thing he's ever witnessed - a statement he's well aware will be blown to hell in some dramatic fashion within the next sixty hours - and it's _amazing._

It's almost like she's done this before, the way she carefully wraps the foil around every contour of the car. She probably has - if ever there were a person who would attempt this sort of thing multiple times in their life, it's this girl. She's surprisingly detail-oriented, but she's also having fun, twirling around and occasionally doing something with her skinny hips that makes it clear she knows damn well she's being watched and doesn't mind that kind of attention one bit. Gods, this woman will be the end of him.

"What'cha think?"

"No confrontation this time?"

"I don't talk to Clarke. She's a bitch, okay? She's a bitch with no concept of loyalty or how to be a decent human. I figure a note is enough explanation."

Octavia pulls a jumbo-sized red marker from her purse - which, it should be noted, is the sort of fantastically huge bag one could probably smuggle a Beagle in - and begins writing on what ought to be the windshield of the car. Her body visibly tenses as she does so, and she's almost shaking by the time she finishes.

"Thank you for not being there when I needed you. Thank you for nearly getting me killed. Have fun in hell." Lincoln glances between the art piece - that's about the nicest thing he can think of to call it - and the person responsible, his face visibly worried. "How likely is it she'll know that was even you?"

"I practically drowned in her parents' swimming pool when we were sixteen. Because she pushed me in. And she didn't even notice until I'd passed out. Correction - someone _else_ noticed. She didn't care. She knows it happened, but she doesn't _care_." Octavia shrugs, forcing herself back to her normal state. "Plus that, I have really distinctive handwriting."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm gonna be. That's the point of this trip. Making things be okay again."

Then, in a fluid motion, she reaches for his pocket and has her fingers around the keys before he grabs her wrist. "No."

"You drove all night, and you kinda look like it. You should sleep for the next bit."

"Did we not establish that you are not driving my truck?"

"I've never hit anything. Clean driving record, I promise."

"Do you even have a license, Octavia?"

"Technically, no."

"Illegal. Not happening."

"You need to sleep, and if you let me do this, I'll let you fuck me."

He looks over her slowly - she's beautiful, and the apparent lack of judgment or impulse control doesn't change that. "Deal. But if I wake up to sirens or impact, we're going to reassess this."

"Understood. Now give me the damn keys. Next one's going to be epic."

"Worse than this?"

"Not worse, per say. Just revenge for the other time I was in hospital."

"And how did that happen?"

"Alcohol poisoning, and the punishment will fit the crime…"

Hell, if he sleeps through this entire disaster, he doesn't care a bit.

 


	4. task four - Wilmington, Saturday afternoon - perform an exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the unresolved sexual tension is now *partially* resolved and Octavia definitely has a mean streak.

He wakes up not to the sound of sirens or the feeling of hitting something decidedly more solid than the truck (a feeling he knows better than he wants to think about) but instead to the blasting radio and the girl singing along. His knowledge of current pop music is not what it probably ought to be, and the song is vaguely familiar at best, but there's a certain enthusiasm in the way Octavia knows every word and it's infectious, beautiful. With half-open eyes, he watches her for a while - there are hand motions involved, some of them fairly dramatic, but she's a surprisingly good driver with only one hand. Surprisingly good driver _period_ , and he's decidedly less scared now that he's lucid again. He's still not sure what her deal is, still not sure if he likes her further than he could theoretically throw her, but he's very close to trusting her.

"What are you running from?" he asks once the song changes to something slower.

"How long have you been awake?" she counters, glaring at him for a heartbeat.

"Few minutes. Why?"

"You were basically dead for five hours. You missed my adventure into the liquor store - and for the record, I do have non-expired ID and they didn't need to know the address on it is inaccurate and point being-"

"Liquor store?" Lincoln raises an eyebrow.

"Cheap vodka. Not for my consumption. Or yours, unless you're dumber than you look. Absolute worst kind available, the unholy offspring of bleach and lighter fluid, _that_ kind of cheap vodka."

"And what are we doing with it?"

"We're hoping that one of my friends still hasn't learned to keep doors locked and… wait, _we_?"

"If you need help with anything, I'm in."

"Of course you say that right before we are using the aforementioned materials as a replacement for every water bottle in his house. You're amazing."

"Thanks?"

"I'm not totally sure that was a compliment, but if you want it to be, awesome."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I'm not running from anything. At least, I don't think I am. Not really sure. It's sweet that you care, and I'm gonna repay you for that too." She licks her lips, perfectly aware of the effect she has on him. Of _course_ she's aware. Damn her.

"You don't owe me anything," he says.

"Okay, I've known you for less than twenty-four hours and so far I have stolen your car, dragged you across four states, and somehow talked you into being my accomplice in this fantastic spiral of revenge and other crazy. _You_ have driven through an entire night, not actually tried to stop any of said crazy, and made puppy-eyes at me for half of it. I'm not sure what your deal is yet, and I would not be surprised if you turn out to be a serial killer or something, but I don't deserve you. I really don't. People like you do not happen to people like me."

"You still don't owe me anything. At least not the sort of thing I'm pretty sure you're thinking."

"Look, my temptation to pull over and tackle you would probably be a thing regardless of these weird circumstances. You're hot and you treat me like I'm human. I don't expect more than that."

They do pull over, into a residential district and down a side street, and as soon as the truck is safely in park in a nondescript driveway, she leans over and kisses him. It's possibly one of the best moments of his life, the way she's like fire on his lips and shifting sand in his hands as she straddles him and-

"Later," he says, all but lifting her off of him.

"I've never been turned down before."

"I'm not turning you down, Octavia. This just isn't the right place?"

"Oh?"

"Look behind us. Small children, plural."

"They won't see us."

"Later. I promise."

"When this is all over, I am getting us a damn hotel room…"

\------

This task, as it turns out, takes less than five minutes.

"Somehow I thought there'd be more material for it, y'know? So now I have four bottles of whatever the hell this is for future unknown purposes, which means I have to figure out what to do with it and-"

"How many did you start with?"

"Six. Which I thought would be enough but apparently I overestimated that."

"Where to next?"

"Virginia Beach. We're kidnapping a cat."

Lincoln isn't sure if he should be worried by this and even less sure if he cares. "A cat?"

"Sadly, property damage is out of the running because this girl's paranoid, or at least she used to be, and I'm pretty sure she has a high-end security system and a lawyer on speed dial."

"And yet somehow cat-napping is okay?"

"Do _not_ judge me. Revenge needs to be appropriate, okay? Temporarily borrowing her spoiled purebred Siamese is _appropriate_!!"

 


End file.
